A Hard Road
by Starsa83
Summary: Laura has lived life in the Mojave the hard way. From being a Chem addicted prostitute for the Omertas, to a member of the Fiends to an ex-junkie mother. She has lived and breathed the hard life. When an injured Legion soldier turns up at her home she has a decision to make. Will she save him, knowing that he could kill her and her daughter while they sleep, or will she let him die
1. Chapter 1

AUTHOR'S NOTE:

Ok guys, please note that there is a bit of a language warning in this story, I wrote this last night at about 3 am when I couldn't sleep. hooray for 20 hours no sleep! Gotta love working night shift those crazy hours!

Enjoy!

You know, they say a man makes his own fortune in New Vegas. You either win big at the tables, break the bank and walk away a winner, or you end up walking home with nothing in your pocket all the way back to the fucking NCR or wherever the fuck you come from.

For me though, my bastard, retard mother-fucking son-of-a-bitch father sold me to Gomorrah to pay for his gambling debts, and then had the decency ended up in a back alley in Freeside with the shit beaten out of him and left to die by some thugs. Yep. New Vegas, the luckiest fucking place on this great fucked up planet we live on.

I was seventeen when this happened, 'daddy' if he were ever worthy of the title, was a drunk and womaniser, he was also a terrible gambler. Mum left us when I was ten and ran off with some Brahmin baron to be his mistress, leaving dad, my older brother and me to fend for ourselves. It was ok at first, but then dad started to get games of Caravan going with trader buddies of his, his debts piled up and he began to work them off.

Thing is, we ended up having to sell off all our property to do it, and then follow the caravans around just so a. the stupid fucker could get his fix of gambling, and b. then pay off his losses by working. I would work around helping the cook, and my brother would help dad with the hauling and setting up of the caravan. Dad would get drunk at night and tell my brother that he was not working hard enough, that he was a useless son.

There were some pretty fucked up fights over the things dad would say when he was drunk, I knew that my brother wouldn't stand for it much longer.

One day, my brother caught sight of an NCR patrol, he followed them and we never saw him again. We were working across the Mojave wasteland when dad finally paid off the last of his debts with a winning streak. He got so drunk and abusive to everyone, gloating and telling them they were all fucked in the head that night, that in the morning when we woke up, the caravan had been long gone. Dad still had his caps and his life, so at least the caravaneers had some integrity.

We moved north up the 95 and got to the 188 trading post, there wasn't much there, just an NCR outpost, little more than a tent, and a food place. No guns merchants like there are today. We moved on pretty quickly and found our way to Freeside.

Back then, you could get into the strip for a fraction of the price it costs today, and dad's 500 caps was more than enough for a credit check for both of us to be able to get in. dad made a fucking beeline straight for Gomorrah, whores, alcohol and gambling aplenty. While he worked on getting his debts up, I sat and watched the whores danced, they looked so glamorous, even the Ghouls. I sipped on my Nuka Cola and thought how fucking great it would be to be a New Vegas dancer. I had the body for it, hard travelling with the caravans and the amount of food available to us kept me trim.

Hours later, some fucker from the casino asked me to go with him to the office, not realising what was about to happen, I went with him. We went through the 'members only' door next to the bar and up a set of stairs to Nero's office. Big Sal, Nero and that sick motherfucker Cachino were all there watching my dad sign my life and freedom over to them for me to work off his debts. Fucking Omertas.

I began working the floor as a waitress, serving chems and alcohol to the customers, and changing the soiled bedding in the whore's rooms. They always stank. The clothing that passed for my uniform, for lack of a better word, consisted mainly of black or red nightie that barely covered my ass or tits, and was one of the reasons that Big Sal and Nero decided that I would be working better as a whore, making them more money. Thank fuck it was Nero who got to try me out first, and not that sick bastard Cachino.

Nero gave me my first hit of Jet, everything went so damned fast, not like Turbo, where it feels like you're moving slow, but in reality, you're actually going like a fucking rocket. I didn't even feel him fucking me, which I think is the way he likes it, fucking a rag doll, a warm, moist rag doll. Sick fuck. The problem is, from then on, it was Jet, Psycho, Med-X, Rocket, Vodka, Absinthe whatever the fuck they gave me, the kicker was, that I _owed_ them for the chems they provided me, and the more I worked, the more chems I needed.

I lost track of how many girls they lost to overdoses. I was lucky though, I realised one day, after finishing up with a Johnny that I could be better. The guy actually wanted to talk to me after he had finished his fifty cap fuck.

"You're such a beautiful girl, I wish you were mine." He said, dreamily.

"You got me for another ten minutes honey." I said, lighting up a cigarette and taking a drag. I blew the smoke out into the dim light of the tent where I was working that day, it curled and roiled on the stale air.

"You can be so much more than you are." He said as he got up and began to dress. He tossed me a bag of caps. "Make yourself better, then come find me, I'll make your life so damn good." And he left, with that promise in the air. I opened the bag of caps, in it was twice the asking price for a fuck. I was at a loss as what to do. I sat there for at least an hour, lighting another smoke, and cracking open the bottle of vodka that was beside the filthy mattress.

The caps lay in a pile before me on the bed.

"Fuck," I said softly to myself, as I looked at the caps, and then to the empty Jet inhalers and Psycho injectors. "Yep." I said, "Fuck." With my free hand I rubbed at my forehead, my skin was clammy and oily, veins stuck out on my hands and in the broken piece of mirror that I used to straighten myself up after a Johnny, I looked haggard, dark circles ran under my eyes, lips were dry and cracked. I knew it was the Med-X that was really fucking me up, killing me slowly. You just had to look at Joanna or Dazzle, they were both pretty fucked up, and they'd been here longer than she had.

I'd made my decision, I had three more Johnnies to work that night, and in between each one, instead of using Jet, or Psycho, I drank water. Clean fucking water, how I'd missed the stuff. I knew it would be a while before all the shit had worked out of my system, but hell, it was a start.

When the last of the Jonnies had finished and gone his way, I went to the footlocker in my room. There was a dress in there that another Johnnie had made me wear, said it was his dead wife's dress, fucking creepy, but he paid good caps for it, and he even called her name when he came. Some freaks out there.

I put on a scarf and some glasses, and dabbed a bit of pre-war make-up powder on my face and walked right out there, without an Omerta noticing. This time I was going to change my luck for the better.

Or so I thought.


	2. Chapter 2

Getting on the chems is so fucking easy, getting off the shit is a totally different matter altogether. I wandered around Freeside for a bit, sleeping in the ruined buildings in the slums, my caps got boosted the first night out while I was sleeping. I was so fucking screwed. I left Freeside and wandered a bit, finding an old shop, its roof missing, the top floor open to the sky and slept there for a couple of days, trying to dry out from the chems, and failing miserably.

It was there that I met Skeet. Skeet was a Fiend, he took me to Vault 3 and I got back into old habits, I didn't whore myself as much as I used to, but the Chems flowed like water from the dam and I got fucked up on chems every night with Motor-Runner's blessing. More than once I found someone had fucked themselves up so bad that they'd overdosed after we'd been together.

It made me think: were they fucking themselves up because of me, or are they really that fucked up anyway? I think the answer to that question was that they really were just that fucked up, but at the time, I was just so fucked up myself. I spent a good year there before I knew I had to get out.

Word was spreading that the Legion was trying to take the dam for the first time. NCR presence was building up, and it would only be a matter of time before the NCR would come for the Fiends next. We'd take shots at them over at McCarran, I know I took out at least three with my cowboy repeater. Skeet gave me the rifle when I went out on my first jaunt with him and his crew, we were plastered to the eyeballs on Psycho and Slasher and ready to just wreck whoever the fuck we came across.

He smiled as I blew the head off an NCR soldier, His head literally exploded, I was proud of that back then, not so now, that guy could have been my brother for all I know. Motor-Runner himself gave me my first pistol for that kill, a 10mm bitch I called 'Betsy' I slept with her under my pillow for protection.

It was when I used it on one of the Fiends who tried to have his way with me when I didn't want him, that I had overstayed my welcome. I shot him in the dick. He became a eunuch in a millisecond, not that he lived long enough to enjoy it. He bled out in the room I claimed.

Through the haze of the chems, was aware enough of what I'd done, and the consequences would be that I'd most likely be killed by the other Fiends. I moved quickly, grabbing some Jet and Psycho from my locker, taking with me some Vault 3 jumpsuits and shoving them into a duffle bag. I cleared out the two dressers of clothing and headed out of the living quarters. I moved quickly, gathering items that wouldn't be missed, shit I could sell. I grabbed my rifle and Betsy, her barrel still warm to the touch from her discharge and hot-footed it out of there.

I changed into some 'decent' clothing when I got far enough away from the Fiends, and almost too close to Westside. I hauled ass back to the little shop where I had stayed after my flight from the whore-den of hell, Gomorrah.

I looked over the place properly, there was a shelf on the bottom floor in the main part of the shop, and there was also an intact door at the back which was lockable. I looked around the outside and couldn't believe my luck when I found a key that was wedged between two bricks in the wall, it fit the door, so all I had to do now was to secure the place a bit better. In the bathroom, the toilet was smashed, not something that would be useable by me or anyone else. I decided to scout around for a new one, or to be more accurate, one that wasn't broken. The sink was also in a similar state, at least there was a bath, thank fuck for that.

Other furniture I would scavenge later, but at least I had a place to stay. The first night there was hell, the second day not much better as I began to come down from the chems and withdrawal set in. I itched and sweated and cried out in the night, in the morning my bottle of water was dry and I had scratches that I'd inflicted on myself and a puddle of puke added to the stains of the mattress. Skeet was there, sitting in the corner.

I reached for Betsy, but she was in the far corner. I'd thrown her in the night in a fit of angst.

"Take it slow Laura, I ain't here to kill you." He said slowly. Skeet could always seem to hold his chems better than anyone else. I shivered despite the heat of the day. Skeet came over and helped me up.

"I'm going to take you to the Followers," he said, "They'll help you get through this." I nodded, my addled mind not even comprehending what was really happening.

Skeet carried me through Freeside to the old Mormon Fort and handed me into the care of the Followers of the Apocalypse. I was placed on a mattress and given a dose of Fixer by a blonde guy in glasses. The first shot of the stuff flowed through my system and the hallucinations began. I screamed as the guy before me changed into some sort of demon in dark power armour with electricity crackling across him, Skeet held me gently as I shook, he waited until the shaking had subsided it was an hour before the next hallucination would kick in as the fixer cleansed my system of the chems that I had used and relied on for so long.

Julie Farkas was the next person I saw in hallucinogenic form, her spiky hair suddenly burst from all angles of her face, skin parted, blood blew out in gouts, and this scene was so horrific I actually fainted.

Days later, I was still vomiting from the effects of the Fixer, or so I thought.

"Laura, I have some news for you." Julie said, coming over to her with a medical clipboard. "You're pregnant."

I sat there stunned. Skeet had been there the whole time, and was blown away by the news, he knew the baby wasn't his, but he wanted to be there with me all the way. I was touched, he was a good friend, but I guess he wanted to be something more as well, and held a hope for it to be true, but I've been fucked by so many men who professed to love me, that I don't know if I could ever feel anything for another man.

"Fuck." I said, bewildered, "I don't even know the first thing about kids!"

"They take nine months." Julie smiled. "We'll go from there, but you need to eat good clean food, nothing that could possibly be irradiated, unless you have a good supply of Rad-x and can filter your food and water through. You have to be very careful, especially in the wasteland. You must come to see us, or go to Dr. Usanagi at the New Vegas Medical Clinic every week until this baby is born, we want to give it the best chance at life." Julie smiled; she seemed more excited about the ex-junkie having a baby that I was myself. It was a huge thing. It gave me purpose in life.


	3. Chapter 3

I left with a new life growing inside me, as I left my old one behind. No more chems, this child was mine, and even though I didn't know who the father was, I'd be damned if I treated my child the way my father treated his kids.

Skeet had a surprise for me when we got back to the shop which we would now be calling home.

Corrugated iron covered the lower part of the broken windows and the missing front door, all the shattered glass had been cleared away, the floor was clean and a mop and cleaners bucket stood in a corner. The shelves were lined with food and cleaning products, two barrels of clean water stood against the wall near a square table with a barbecue sitting next to it. A round table with four relatively clean chairs stood in the middle of the room and there were two mattresses on the floor near the windows, with blankets and pillows all made up.

Skeet beamed proudly, "Welcome home." He said and kissed me on the cheek.

My belly grew big with the baby, my weekly checks with Dr. Usanagi went smoothly, and when the time came, I gave birth to a healthy baby girl. Molly came into the world at one of the most inopportune times, I was cooking dinner when my water broke, and Skeet was out working in Westside on the farms there. I scribbled a note with charcoal from the barbecue and waddled as fast as my baby belly and labour pains could allow. I was almost doubled over when I reached the New Vegas Medical Clinic.

"Get this fucking thing out of me!" I screamed as the cramps came stronger and stronger. It was the most pain I've ever been in, but it was worth the effort. Skeet came rushing in just as Molly gave her first cry to the world, declaring that she was there. I wept for the first time in years, the last time was after I was been fucked by Nero for the first time, and realised that my life now belonged to Gomorrah's prostitution ring. These were tears of joy, not of shame, nor grief. Skeet kissed me on the forehead, "She's just as beautiful as her mother." He smiled. We stayed at the clinic for a couple of days, while the Followers doctors checked us both over.

The nights were spent getting up and changing soiled nappies, feeding and applying the gel from the Nevada agave fruit to her sore bottom when her nappy rash flared up. Skeet would sit up for hours just watching her, letting me get some sleep, which in reality was not fair as he was the one bringing in the caps. He would hold her while I cleaned and cooked, and she was happy in his arms.

Part of me was jealous that he was so enamoured with her, but I felt the love that he had for her, and I was happy that there was a man who was there for her as a father figure.

Molly was three when he was killed.

One of the Westside militia came to our home and told me, he had gotten into a fight with one of the Westside residents, who pulled a gun and shot him in the chest. He was killed instantly. We took his body to the hills and buried him, Molly left white horse nettle flowers on his grave and said 'bye daddy' to him.

That night, as I tucked my little girl into bed, she asked, "Mummy, when can I see daddy again?" I tried hard not to cry, "One day, maybe not for a very long time though." I failed and the tears cascaded down my face. I kissed Molly and went up to the top floor. It was hardly used, except as a lookout for any raiders or Fiends from our old gang who might get it in their heads that we were easy pickings. I sat in the chair that Skeet had used when he sat up here. There was a lot of wasted space up here, an idea formed in my head, and the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to do it. I didn't sleep that night, but I cried often in grieving for Skeet, and built on my idea for our survival.

I had breakfast ready for Molly when she woke. She ate and I bathed her. We headed over to the old Sunset factory where we collected as many Sunset Sarsaparilla crates as I could carry. Molly grabbed two of the smaller wooden boxes and carried them as best as her little legs could.

When we got back home, I put the boxes and crates up on the top floor and headed back out for more. When I figured I had enough, I took out Skeet's toolbox from the bathroom and removed the lids from the crates. The wood from the lids would be handy for firewood. I grabbed two buckets and a shovel, and while Molly played with her teddy bear and toy cars, I dug up dirt from nearby.

I was dirty to the elbows and my clothes were filthy when I finished, but it was all ready for the seeds to go in. Molly came up and had a look, she held my hand.

"What is it, Mummy? She asked me.

"It's a garden; we are going to grow food up here." I explained, even though I had no idea how I was really going to achieve it. "Tomorrow we will go and see the nice man at the Co-op in Westside and get some seeds, and then in a few weeks, we'll have some plants growing." I said, as I picked up my daughter and tickled her sides. She squealed with laughter as I carried her down.

The Westside Co-op was filled with produce; it had been a good crop this time. Etienne smiled us as we shopped and chatted about what we would plant and grow.

"Can we grow Sugar bombs Mummy? Molly had asked grabbing a box of cereal from a shelf. I laughed, "No darling, Sugar bombs aren't plantsI took the box of cereal and put it in the cart, "But we can have them for breakfast." In her child-like innocence, she danced around the shop while is finished shopping.

"Anything else?" Etienne asked me, I smiled, "I'd like the name of the bastard who killed my man over a disagreement." I said, pushing some extra caps towards him. Etienne looked at me, and then at my little girl who still danced around in the innocence of youth, I stared at him, making him uncomfortable, causing him to return his attention to me.

"Cosgrove, he's one of the local drunks, likes to cause trouble, Militia have tried to get him before, but he's slippery, he hides out in one of the abandoned houses nearby." I smiled darkly, "Thanks." I took Molly's hand and our purchases and left the shop.


	4. Chapter 4

We planted the seeds of our garden that morning, watering it in, and fertilising with Brahmin dung, I had rigged a door to cover the stairs so the smell wouldn't come down too much into the main living areas. Our crops soon grew into edible food, though the honey mesquite took a little longer to mature, the Barrel Cactus, Nevada Agave, and Banana Yucca all grew heartily. The potatoes and carrots came in quickly as well. What we didn't eat or could store, we sold at the co-op, and things were looking up. Another year passed and Molly was growing like our vegetables – fast!

We had built a brick fence that year with the wrecked bricks from other buildings that lay scattered around the place, and clearing up some area for more gardens, Maize was one of the major crops that we grew out in our garden. Soon there was a field of green leading up to our front door and Molly was catching up to the height of the maize stalks. She was five when I decided it was time for revenge.

Finding Cosgrove was actually easier than I thought, I asked Klamath Bob what time Cosgrove usually came around to buy his liquor of a day, and then I followed him back to his house. Molly was back at home playing happily, with orders not to let anyone in.

Cosgrove opened the door to me and I smiled as I held up Betsy. "This is for Skeet." I said, as I shot him in the chest. He fell backwards, his head hitting a table and his eyes full of surprise. It was the first time I had killed a man with a clear head, once done, I could not undo it. Not that I wanted to.

Cosgrove had taken away the only man who had truly loved me, Skeet had kicked his Chem habit with me, he'd taken care of me during my drying-out and pregnancy, he'd provided for us by fixing up our little home and working to make our lives better while I raised a daughter who wasn't even his, and this piece of shit had taken him away, all for an argument over the weight–price of the produce that they had been growing.

I moved quickly through his house. Whiskey, vodka, beer and wine bottles littered the carpet, there was a 9mm pistol in his room, some food in his kitchen and clothes in his cupboard. There were some magazines and pre-war books in good condition as well. I grabbed those as I had been teaching Molly to read I moved quickly, gathering whatever else of value I could find. It brought me back to my days as a Fiend, raiding and scavenging for sit to sell, taking the clothes of someone that we'd killed to sell, and spending the caps on the chems that would keep us high.

I hurried to the Crimson Caravan Company and sold the things I didn't need, and bought some supplies, I didn't want to run the risk of anyone in Westside recognising anything from Cosgrove's house. It was nearing dark when I returned home. I noticed patches of something dark coming up the pathway between the rows of Maize, and I dropped the crate of supplies when I saw a bloody handprint in the fading light against the doorframe. I fumbled for the key and pulled Betsy. "Molly!" I cried when I flung open the door.

She as all right, she was sitting at the table, playing with her toys.

"Hi mummy!" she said happily, and went back to playing. I looked around the room and saw him in the corner. The trail of blood leading up to him was still fresh. The Legion soldier held his hand against his side, his hands covered in the crimson of blood, nearly matching his armour. He looked at me, breathing heavily with the pain. I had just killed a man, and fate dropped another onto my lap. I gathered Molly and took her into the back room where we slept.

"Where did he come from baby?" I asked her.

"He came and he knocked on the door and asked for help mummy, he said he was hurt real bad, I said my mummy can help you but we gotta wait till she comes back from town." Molly continued to play with her teddy, all innocence and kindness.

I kissed her beautiful cheek as she asked "Can you help him mummy? He's my friend, we played tea party and he read me a story, but then he said he got too tired and sat down on the floor." I thought for a moment.

This man was dangerous, and my daughter had let him into our house. But I was not such a cold-hearted bitch that I wouldn't help someone if they had asked for it, and from my daughter's accounts, he had. It was something Skeet had taught me, and it had obviously rubbed off on Molly. Kindness is freely given, no-one owes you kindness and there is not enough of it in the world of today. Skeet had been a big believer in Karma, it was one of the reasons that he had brought me back from the brink of returning to the self-destruction of Chem addiction in my darkest hours.

I nodded, "Ok, but I want you to stay here for me, and I'll bring you in some dinner shortly." I left molly and closed the door curtain behind me. I moved past the soldier quickly and fixed some Cram and Blamco mac 'n' cheese for Molly. He watched me the entire time; his weapon was right beside his hands. With molly fed, I turned my attention to him. I kicked away his pistol and held Betsy towards his head. He looked at me with a mixture of fear and contempt.

"If I find out you have molested my daughter, I will make you wish that you had never been born. And if you ever touch her, I will hang you from your ankles from the top floor of this building until your die, got it?" he nodded weakly. I moved Molly's bed out from the back room and helped him onto it, keeping him in a sitting position I stripped his crimson armour from him. His wounds were obvious.

Three shots, one to the shoulder, another in his left leg and one to the side. The side wound, thankfully was only a grazing cut, no bullet had caught in the flesh, but the shoulder was another matter, as was his leg. The bullet in his leg had missed any major arteries or else he would have bled out by now

I boiled some water and proceeded to wipe away the blood, I wasn't the greatest nurse in the world but I had helped patch some of the Fiends when I was in my more lucid states from the Chem use. I moved to the bathroom and got the doctor's bag and some med-x and a couple of stimpacks. When he saw me take the meds from the bag, he raised a hand, "No, no meds, none of that filth." He said weakly.

"This will hurt like a motherfucker, are you sure?" I asked, as I picked up the forceps and tweezers and put them into the boiling water to sterilise them

"No meds." He said, wincing as I wiped away fresh blood. I returned to the bathroom and collected some clean cloths to use as padding for the bandages. I frowned, "You need them." I said, as I pushed the needle of the med-x into his flesh and let the meds flow into his body.

I poured a shot of whiskey, "Don't give me that, woman, I refuse to drink it." He said angrily, I smiled, "Not for you, for me." And I downed the shot in one hit. With my bit of Dutch courage, I began to probe for the offending bullets. I saw the curtain twitch and realised that Molly was watching. "Come here, baby." I said to her. "It's all right, we have to get these bullets out of the man so he can get better." I handed her a plate. "You hold this, and I'll get the bullets out." She nodded, she seemed eager to help.

I worked on the man, opening the wound a little more with the forceps and finding the bullet in his shoulder quickly. Through torn flesh it had settled just before his shoulder blade. It took a few tries, but I finally pulled the bullet and placed it on the plate that Molly held for me. I packed a healing poultice into his wound and took up a needle and thread, which had been soaking in a glass of whiskey and began to stitch him up. Through it all, he had only groaned once, the med-x had done its job. I bound his shoulder with padding and bandages and then went to work on his leg.

That bullet proved to be a nasty piece of work, he would walk with a limp for the rest of his life, but I at least managed to save him. I ended up pulling pieces of shattered bullet from his leg, there were several fragments and I had to pour water into the wound to check for any more. I was finally satisfied when I had nine fragments of the bullet on the late next to the one from his shoulder. I cleaned his wound and packed it with more poultice and stitched it up with the remaining thread.


	5. Chapter 5

With the soldier resting peacefully, I set about cleaning up. I put Molly in my bed and read to her from one of the books that I had stolen from Cosgrove's place. I sat there with her and held her while she drifted off to sleep.

Leaving my sleeping baby, I started to clean up. The buckets of bloodied water I fed to our crops up on the roof, the broc flower and xander root would be needed for the healing powder and poultices that I would use on the soldier, the lessons that the followers taught me while I was getting off the chems were invaluable. Every harvest, Molly and I would take a portion of our crop to the old Mormon fort in part payment for us both getting our regular check-ups and any lessons they would be willing to give us, reading, writing, arithmetic, medical skills, survival skills. It was all handy to have in this day and age.

I continued my cleaning while he slept, sprinkling some abraxo cleaner into the mop bucket, I proceeded to scrub the blood from my floors, and then cleaned the bloody hand print from the outside wall beside the door. I washed up and began to get some Brahmin broth ready, strips of Brahmin meat, some vegetables and some maize, as well as some herbs that were damn expensive to buy, but I had made enough for us to last a few days.

I set the coffee pot of water to boil and ground up some honey-mesquite beans and coyote tobacco chew, the black coffee would be ready soon. I watched the man sleeping under the dose of med-x. When he woke, he would still be in pain, and unless he willingly took another dose of med-x, which I figured would be out of the question, that pain would be there until he healed.

With the dawn breaking, I went out and watered the crops. Molly came to the door and watched me, rubbing her eyes sleepily. I turned to her and smiled. "Morning baby." I said, putting the bucket down, I went to her and gave her breakfast. I sat and watched her eat, my black coffee bitter and strong, but reviving me with each sip.

The soldier moved and groaned, he tried to sit up. I put down my coffee mug and went to help him. His skin wasn't fevered, nor clammy, which was a good sign for no infection had spread yet. I propped him up with a pillow against a crate and took a bowl of the Brahmin broth. He was still too weak to lift the spoon himself, so I fed him. Molly went and grabbed a pencil and some paper and began to draw, with her happily occupied, I questioned our 'guest.'

"What's your name?" I asked him,

"Dominicus." He replied, the strength coming back in his voice. She wiped at his mouth where the soup had spilled from his last mouthful.

"How did you get here?" was my next question to him.

"I can't remember, I remember my Decani engaging in glorious battle with a profligate NCR patrol, and after that, I don't remember much." He winced as he moved his shoulder. I pressed my hand against the wound, applying gently pressure, when I removed my hand; I was pleased that no blood seeped through. "Good, you haven't torn your stitches out." I said, I looked into his blue eyes, he was handsome in a rugged way, but I would not fool myself, this man would not hesitate to enslave me and my daughter or worse.

I helped him up to use the bathroom, when he protested that I was still there when he needed to piss, I informed him quite curtly, that he had nothing that I hadn't seen before. He started to fall to the side and I grabbed him. With me supporting him, he was able to relieve himself. I helped him back to the mattress where he lay exhausted. His road to recovery would be a long one.

A week later, he was able to hop to the bathroom and take care of his own needs for relief, much to mine. The crops were almost ready for harvest, and would be by the next week. Every day, after I'd watered the crops and fed us all, I would help him to move the damaged leg and arm around, so the muscles wouldn't go into atrophy. He took his first staggering steps a couple of days later, and I told him that he could leave in another couple of days and never return.

He watched me constantly as I busied myself around the house, doing chores, or taking buckets of water upstairs to the garden up there, this was something he watched curiously, but had never asked about my activities up there. I found him up there one evening, sitting on Skeet's chair amongst the greenery. It was always calming to be there, the plants provided a cool area to escape to in the heat of the day, despite the area being open to the elements. From behind the branches of a honey mesquite tree, I watched him. He sat clad in a pair of pants that I had given him, they had belonged to Skeet, and I had wept when I pulled them from the dresser. They still had Skeet's scent on them, even after all these years. I left him to his musings and began to cook dinner.

When I woke up the next morning it was to the haze of a fever, Molly was like a little lost waif beside me, and Dominicus sat beside her. He wiped the sweat from my brow with a cool, damp cloth. Much of the next week was lost in the feverish haze. I was so weak when my body finally shucked the illness that had also run rampant through Westside and North Vegas.

When I finally was able to sit up, I found that I had lost a lot of weight. I got up and went to check on the crops after using the bathroom. I was still unsteady on my feet and leaned against the door frame. Dominicus and Molly were out in the field of Maize. Crates of produce were already packed and waiting to be taken to be sold. I heard Molly talking to Dominicus, "Not that one, Dominicus it's not ready yet!" to which he replied, "Oh, ok, so not this one then?" Molly giggled, "Nope, not that one." I felt faint again, and slid down onto the floor. Dominicus heard me and came quickly to the house.

"You shouldn't be up so soon." He said to me, me picked me up gently, far more gently than I would have expected from a legion soldier. I wrapped my arms around his neck for support and lay my head on his shoulder. He put me back to bed and brought in some food. I didn't know until later, that he had nursed me through the sickness, harvested the crops, and had even gone to the Followers for help with my sickness. He sat by my side and watched me as I ate.

It was obvious that he had the chance to kill me in my fevered and weak state.

"Why didn't you?" I asked him.

"What, Kill you?" he smiled, "The thought crossed my mind, but there would be no honour in it, you tended to my wounds and healed me as best you could. I'll walk with a limp, and be useless to the Legion, but I am still alive." He put his hand on mine, "Thank-you." He said to me. The touch sent a little thrill up my arm, his hand was warm. I rested for the next two days and got my strength back


	6. Chapter 6

The bath was nice and hot, my muscles ached from the work of harvest, I had stripped my clothing, and with only a threadbare towel wrapped around me, I sat upon the edge of the bath and ran my hand through the warm water. The towel slipped a little to just sit below the top of my bottom. It didn't occur to me that Dominicus was watching from the door, there was no curtain where the doorframe was.

I stood and stepped into the bath, dropping the towel behind me, to land on the floor. The warm water made me a little lethargic I dipped my head under and came up quickly for air. Water streamed off my face and down my back as I sat up and began to clean the grime and dirt from my body. He watched quietly, admiring my body.

It's nothing spectacular, my body. Hard and lean years from chem use and sometimes poor harvests have given it a slim shape that I have managed to keep, despite having a baby, it swelled in the right places, and I would often get appreciative looks from the Westside men, more than once I had offers of partnership and protection from several of the Militia boys, but I had only one person that I wanted to share my life with, and she was my everything.

The next day, I went up to the garden on the top floor where Dominicus was sitting. In my hands I took two cups of Black coffee, the steam still wisping from the ceramic cups. I sat next to him as he looked out to the horizon. He took the coffee and sipped the bitter drink.

"Molly reminds me of my sister." He said to her "She is the reason why I haven't left yet, her and your recent illness." He said softly, a hint of sadness in his voice.

I sat quietly, "What happened to your sister?" I asked after a moment.

He sighed, "She, like all other women who were captured from our tribe, became a slave. I didn't see her for a long time after we were captured. One day; she was brought in to a camp where I was attached as the personal slave of the Centurion." He stopped, and looked up to the cloudless sky. I could tell there was much more to the story, but I let him decide if he wanted to continue.

"I loved her, despite what they teach us as children in the Legion about women, she was my sister, my blood. My father was killed by Legate Lanius' men when they came to our village, mother and Cecelia were taken with the other women and sold, I was taken with the other young boys to be trained as a Legionary." He sighed and looked at the cup in his hand.

"I haven't been honest with you." He said so softly that I had to lean in to hear his next words.

"I am a deserter from the Legion, a former Frumentarius. I have men looking for me from the Legion. I risked my life because I wanted to get my sister out of the clutches of the Centurion who owned her. He was cruel to his slaves, and she must have done something to earn a place on the Cross, that was where I found her. She was barely alive when I came back for her. The blood of the Centurion was still on my hands when I took her down." His hands began to shake.

I took the coffee cup from him and held his hands.

"She was so light, and frail, but she was strong, we made it across the river and almost to Vegas, that's where the assassin squad found us and attacked. She was hit and fell quickly, I took out two before they got me in the leg, I got another just after he grazed my side, and I killed the last, another centurion, just as he fired and took me in the shoulder." Tears were running down Dominuicus' face,

"She died in my arms, but before she died, she thanked me, for setting her free, and asked that I set myself free from the Legion." I moved and sat before him, "If I can help in any way, I will." I said to him, he leaned forward and whispered "Thank-you." before he took my face in his hands and kissed me. Like a fool I responded, it had been years since I had any male company, not that I desired it, as my years as a whore had numbed me to sex, it held no pleasure for me, but in this kiss, there was something.

There was none of the slobbering lust that men often held for a woman of my former station, the mindless humping of a horny prospector had nothing in comparison to this man's kiss, he was gentle, but not demanding, and I was spellbound by him.

Molly broke that spell, by coming home with a friend from Westside.

"Mummy!" she called out as she and Susan came through the door to the kitchen, both girls were hungry as children often are. I pulled away, breaking the kiss and looked guiltily at Dominicus, who grinned behind the tears in his eyes. "I'm coming sweetheart," I called, gathering my coffee cup and headed down the stairs.

Later that night, Molly had gone to stay at Susan's for the night, Dominicus was back sitting upstairs. I decided it was probably time for his stitches to come out.

"Time for those stitches to come out." I said cheerily, as I came up the stairs. He turned to me from his vantage point, where once there had been a window and frame but now there was a hole in the wall. I took out the scissors and tweezers.

"Shirt and pants off please." I said, and then blushed furiously and giggled like a teenaged girl. "Sorry, that came out wrong." I said, grinning. He smiled and quickly removed his trousers. "That's all right, I'm not worried." He said, smiling. He sat back down and allowed me to work.

I carefully cut each stitch, noting that there was no sign of infection at the site; he had taken care of the cleaning of the wound himself while I was sick, and it had healed well. I gently tugged each stitch free and when the last one had come away I gently ran my fingers across the scar. He took a deep breath as my skin touched his.

"Oh, sorry, did that hurt?" I asked, concerned, he looked at me and smiled, "No, it didn't." he didn't make a move to put his pants back on. I reached up and unbuttoned his shirt. I came in close to him as I helped him remove it, his scent was strong, and we were barely an inch away from each other's faces. Before he could move, I turned my attention to his side, removing the stitches carefully, and again he breathed in deeply when I touched the scar with my fingertips.

His closeness awoke something in me, his finely muscled body shone in the lamplight and the golden moon that shone above us. He breathed in my scent as I came closer to him to get the last of the stitches out from his shoulder. He reached up and gently picked me up, and placed me on his lap.

"Dominicus…" I started. "Yes?" he asked his voice was deep and husky with desire.

"I need to get these stitches out." I said, quite a bit huskily myself, damn him, he was having an effect on me. "Then get them out." He said, softly, and began to stroke my long hair. He followed the fall of my hair down to my back and up again to my shoulders with hands, rough and calloused from fighting and the harvest. I pulled the last stitch out and placed the tweezers onto the table beside us and turned to him.

He kissed me again, gently, and softly. His hands explored my body, and as I kissed him back, I began to unbutton my blouse. His hands found their way to my skin and breasts, I felt the rising passion within each of us, I moved about and straddled him, dropping my blouse to join his discarded clothing. I arched my back as he began to kiss my chest. My hands went to the back of his head and guided him to the places where I wanted him to go.

This was so different from being with a Johnnie, or a sex-crazed fiend, where they had control, here Dominicus allowed me to take my pleasure before he asked for his. He brought me to the edge of ecstasy, before he laid me upon our discarded clothes and removed the final garments.

When he entered me, it was as if every star exploded above us, passion blossomed and flooded my system, as he set his pace inside me, I moaned with real feeling, with the exquisite pain that burned into orgasmic and joyful release.

He moaned as he finished and rested atop me momentarily before he rolled away, we both were breathing heavily and bathed in sweat form our efforts, he had several small scratches upon his back where I had engaged my nails in unbridled and long-overdue passion. I rolled into his arms, and he held me in a lovers embrace, for the first time, I had made love. I had never slept with Skeet, I knew he loved me, but he had respect for me and never pushed the issue.

Dominicus awakened my passion, where The Omertas had subdued it by turning me into a loveless Whore. I was grateful to Dominicus. We rested and then returned to each other's passions.


	7. Chapter 7

The next morning, I felt his hands caress my body as I did the dishes; I smiled and turned in his arms. "Thank-you." I said, he looked at me and grinned, "For what?" he asked.

"For last night, you silly man." I replied. "My past, hasn't allowed me to experience that sort of passion."

"It was my pleasure, as much as it was yours." He smiled and snuggled his chin against the curve of my neck and shoulder, he held me tight and made me feel secure.

Molly came home at lunch time and was chattering away about her time at Susan's Dominicus listened raptly to her childish chatter while I made preparations for dinner. We were short on some supplies and he offered to go to Westside and purchase them. He waved to us as he left. Molly sat down at the able and began to draw. I went upstairs and tended to the garden. I heard a crash as the door was kicked in and Molly's scream. I grabbed a shovel and ran down to my daughter. Four men stood in the doorway, clad in Legion armour. I grabbed my daughter and held her close,

"It's ok baby, its ok." I soothed her, gently stroking her hair, she sobbed, my poor baby was so frightened, as was I but I couldn't show it, lest I frighten her.

"Who are you, what do you want?" I demanded. I received a backhand across the face for my questions. "Where is Dominicus?" the one wearing the coyotes head demanded. I looked up at him, holding my face with one hand, and my crying child in the other.

"There's no-one here by that name, just me and my daughter." Unfortunately, my daughter piped up, revealing my lie

Molly yelled, "No, Dominicus is my friend!" I hushed her. The Legion soldiers went through the house, finally finding Dominicus' armour upstairs.

"Where is he, woman?" asked the Frumentarii, holding a gun to my head. I closed my eyes and sighed, "He's gone to Westside, for supplies." I said feeling guilt like a heavy weight over having told them where my lover was. I knew that they would kill him, and enslave or kill us as well.

I was grabbed roughly and taken out of the house, Molly screamed after me as she was grabbed as well, I was frantic and I scratched and kicked at the men who were 'escorting' us from our home and I worried for my little girl.

They took us to a camp several hours away from New Vegas, where we waited for Dominicus. I was finally able to comfort my daughter, I held her on my lap and she snuggled up in my arms, her little face a picture of fear. I watched the men as they moved about the camp, one man always kept watch over us, while another watched the wastes. There was one man who often looked my way, I had seen that look before from men in Gomorrah, I didn't like it or his intentions one bit. Molly slept with her head in my lap. I gently stroked her soft hair, I was weary and emotionally exhausted but I refused to sleep.

The men spoke quietly around the camp fire.

"What if he doesn't come?" asked one,

"He will come." Replied their leader, as he lifted a bottle of water to his lips. "We have his woman; his weakness is his protective nature towards women."

"What about the woman and child?" I watched as they spoke of us, fear rising in my mind.

"We'll take them to Cottonwood Cove, Canyon Runner can break them, it appears that the woman has some life skills. The child, she will learn to work." Their leader said gruffly.

With our fates sealed, I lay down beside my daughter and closed my eyes, I held her tight, she was all I had left and I was going to lose her to the Legion dogs before me, we had to escape.

I was dozing lightly when the guard was changed. The new guard grabbed me roughly and pulled me to my feet, in the firelight he held a finger to his lips. He was the one with the piercing eyes who watched me from the camp fire for most of the night. He began to drag me away from Molly, and when I resisted, he hissed at me, "Would you rather me have my way with your daughter, woman?"

I relented; I would do anything to protect my baby girl for as long as I could. He pushed me to the ground behind some bushes. I scraped my knee on a rock as I fell.

He held a machete to my neck and told me to undress. With shaking hands I began to unbutton my shirt while he watched in the dim light. He began to unbuckle the skirt of his armour, as he came down to me, a shadow moved in the background, I noticed it but didn't turn my attention to it.

My would-be-rapist was pulled back off me before he could touch me, there was a sick, wet thud as the shadow struck him with something, a struggle ensued as I quickly covered myself and looked around for a weapon, a stick, a rock, _anything_. My saviour finished off my attacker with such violence and fury that I was shocked.

He turned towards me, the blade in his hand gleamed red and dripped with blood.

"Are you all right?" he asked me, I nodded, Dominicus looked about, "Where's Molly?" he asked.

"She's back at the camp." I said, shaking. He cleaned his blade on the dead legionary and came to me. He held me until my shaking stopped, "We'll get her back, safe, don't worry." He assured me. I nodded. He turned back to the body and searched it, he pulled two weapons, another machete and a pistol, which he handed to me.

He then stripped his clothing and removed the dead legionary's armour; he dressed quickly in the dead man's clothes. He turned to me, his eyes shining in the dim light, "I'll take you back, as if you've just had to relive yourself, my disguise won't last long, when the fighting starts, get away and hide, I'll come and find you." He said, pulling me to him he kissed me gently, "I'm sorry that this happened. I will make it up to you, both of you." He then pulled the helmet over his head and took my arm.

I took upon myself the look of a defeated woman as Dominicus returned to the camp.

"What, could you not help yourself?" asked the leader. Dominicus pushed me down beside Molly. Dominicus turned to the leader and narrowed his eyes behind the helmet. The Decanus noticed the blood upon the pilfered uniform and made the connection.

"It's Him!" he shouted and pointed at Dominicus, the other men of the camp were upon their feet in seconds, I grabbed Molly and backed away into the darkness, watching the fight as we slipped away.

Dominicus was graceful in battle. He drew both machetes and struck out at his former compatriots. I have never seen a man wield such devastating fury, while being so beautiful in battle. He sliced and cut, ducked and weaved, two men had fallen, and the Decanus was the last man standing, he drew his gun and fired, Dominicus struck the barrel of the gun with his machete as it fired, causing the weapon to miss its mark. The then struck the Decanus across the throat, blood spurted from severed arteries and the Decanus fell to his knees. Dominicus struck him again and his head fell from the shoulders.

I held Molly's head against my chest to hide the vision of bloody death from her innocent eyes. Dominicus stood over the men he had killed and breathed heavily. He was silhouetted against the firelight. "Close your eyes, baby, and keep them closed." I told molly as I carried her through the camp to him.

I reached out to the man who I had willingly shared my body with and touched him on the shoulder, he flinched and turned to me with lightning reflexes, coming on guard, expecting attack. His eyes were wild like that of an animal. The spell was broken when he realised it was me with my child in my arms.

"It's over." I said, she shook his head, "No, more will come, I have to go." He said, cleaning the blades on the bodies. Molly turned and looked at Dominicus, "No, Dominicus, stay you can't go away!" he took off his helmet and looked at my baby.

"If I stay, more bad men will come and try and take you away from me, I don't want that." He said, trying to explain to my little girl. She looked at him, "But we could go with you, couldn't we mummy?" she said looking at me.

"Baby, it's not that simple." I said, carrying her away from the dead men.

"Yes, we go away with Dominicus, where the bad men can't find us." I put her upon the ground, Dominicus came over to us he bent down upon one knee. "I wish I could take you with me, but I can't sweetie, it's too dangerous."

Her bottom lip began to tremble, "But I'm brave, and I wanted you to be my daddy." She said, tears running down her little face. I felt my own eyes brim with the tears that I was fighting, it was a losing battle. Dominicus wiped her face with his hand. "I'll come back, one day, when it's safe, I promise."

He hugged my daughter, the blood of other men still wet upon his armour. He released her and turned to me.

"Go to Westside, you'll be safe there, I've made arrangements for you with Ettienne. There will be a place for you to live and a place for you to continue farming. I will come back to you one day." He said, he took me into his arms and kissed me. "This I promise you." He said, he removed a necklace from his neck and placed it around mine. "It was my sister's, I kept it as a promise to her, and now I give it as a promise to you."

He held me tight, I whispered in his ear "I will wait for you." And he held me tighter. I wept, hating the way this had to be, I loved him. But the Legion would not rest until he was captured or killed, or they were defeated. He gathered some supplies and walked off into the darkness with a single backwards glance.

I took Molly's hand and began the long journey back to New Vegas. We stopped back at home to quickly gather clothes and possessions before we entered Westside and a new life.

Two years passed, the Dam was fought over and the war was won, an independent New Vegas was claimed by someone known as "The Courier", and the NCR and the Legion were both sent packing.

Molly and I worked our little plot of land in Westside, we made enough to get by, to survive with a few luxuries thrown in when we needed them. I missed our old home, and I missed Dominicus. My thoughts went to him every night before I drifted off to sleep, wondering what he was doing, if he was still alive or if he had been captured by the Legion, those nights were hell.

It was a bright morning when the stranger approached me, a broad brimmed hat covering much of his features, he watched as Molly and I worked to plot of land. He took off his hat and smiled, his eyes were the same, but his face had been scarred terribly by the one-man war that he had taken to the Legion. I turned and looked up at him.

"Dominicus?" I said, gently touching his face. I threw my arms around him and kissed his scarred lips.

"I'm home." He said, as he held me tight.

I hope you enjoyed this story, I'm seriously considering writing the sequel to this, from Dominicus' side. Keep an eye out!


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